Daughters
by pratz
Summary: Leroy Berry observed during a semester break. ::Complete::
1. Chapter 1

**Daughters**

Author: pratz

Summary: Leroy Berry observed.

Disclaimer: RIB's.

Note: Because the lack of parental figures in Glee is sad. Because we need more parents like Burt Hummel. Because somehow I see Leroy as the more perceptive father.

-.-.-.-

There were reasons why Leroy Berry loved his house so much.

It was the first house he personally designed from scratch. No junior designers in his firm had been allowed to help him, and he hadn't wanted senior designers to meddle in. No, seriously. He didn't even let workers plaster the wallpaper. He did that on his own, helped only by Hiram, of course. He also handpicked the furniture himself, particularly the star-studded high chair Rachel used until she was five. The high chair now was in their basement, and Hiram was always awed by the memory of their daughter singing into her spoon while sitting on that chair. _A natural born star_, Hiram had cooed back then.

Of all rooms, the kitchen was their haven, a place where the three of them would gather after a hard day at work or school. When their day was even harder since Rachel had to face another slushie attack or Hiram had to face a homophobic client, it was in the kitchen where they would hug and cling to each other tightly before dinner. It was a place where family bonding was strengthened over and over again.

Leroy decided that he liked the way the word _family_ rolled on his tongue as he witnessed the scene before him.

Standing almost a head taller than his daughter, Yale-pampered Quinn Fabray, in her typical attire of brightly colored summer dress and rolled up bolero and hair pinned back neatly by two side braids, had never looked more at ease than now. The soft buzz of the dishwasher let Hiram know that Quinn was waiting for the machine to finish its duty, all the while humming random tune to match the dishwasher's. Next to her, Rachel, in a size too big NYADA shirt, was drying the washed utensils and, being a superstar perfectionist she was, arranging them in such order Leroy would think they were preparing a desert for the First Family instead of a simple dinner over semester break.

"Let me help with that."

"No, Quinn. You do the washing and I do the drying. That's the arrangement."

Hiram could almost see the rolled eyes and hear the deep mirth in Quinn's reply. Not that it was that difficult to imagine with all the months Quinn had charmed her way into the Berrys' space, really.

"The arrangement is, might I remind you, 'to split the work and get it done as quickly as possible so we can have the dessert.'

Rachel mocked a scandalized gasp, clutching the damp towel to her chest. "Why, Quinn Fabray! You just air quote me! Yale would be so ashamed!"

There it was again. That easy reaction. A quiet chuckle, low throated but gentle nonetheless. A subtle shake on Quinn's shoulders, probably from holding back laughter. Well, Leroy would love it even more if Quinn let it out and just be herself when she was under his roof.

Quinn leaned to Rachel slightly, nudging her with a roll or her arm. Their arms bumped in a soft, delicate moment of contact, so easy yet so intimate and _perfect_, and that's the moment Leroy realized that perhaps, perhaps he had misjudged Quinn a little far from the truth.

It couldn't get any better that Quinn felt at home here.

He cleared his throat, glad that none of the girls jump at the sound. Well, he had only gone to the bathroom. It wasn't like they would have time to commit questionable acts, wouldn't they?

Not that he needed to be suspicious of them, really. He knew his daughter, and Quinn was—well—_Quinn_. He just knew them.

Rachel swirled dramatically to face him. Quinn, on the other hand, turned halfway and acknowledged him with a polite nod.

"Dessert is ready in five minutes, Daddy," Rachel announced. "And I think it is best if we have it in the living room. I promise tonight we won't watch _Funny Girl_. Is _The Phantom of the Opera_ suitable for you or do you have something in mind, Daddy?"

_Aha_. Leroy loved that bounce in his daughter's bearing. It was minuscule, but it was a sign every father would be able to see and know as a sign of joy. Then what kind of father he would be to deny his daughter's simple request? Hence he settled by putting a kiss on his daughter's temple and said, "_Phantom_ sounds good, baby girl."

Rachel ducked away from his arms which were coming for a hug, not out of shame but more out of preserving her poise in front of Quinn. That Leroy knew, too. Whenever it came to Quinn, Rachel wanted to look—_be_—the best. The best friend, fellow Glee club member, and host Quinn could have, graceful and accommodating and still _mature_.

"Great!" Another bounce. _So much for mature_, Leroy thought, amused. "Then I'd like you to help Quinn with the bowls because I believe I need to change my shirt before I catch cold or, worse, suffer from pneumonia." She pointed at the dampness in front of her NYADA shirt, apparently from the spot uncovered by her apron when she did the drying.

Quinn rolled her eyes at the antics, and Leroy grinned at the gesture. At the first time Quinn had stepped her feet on their house, he had never imagined to see Quinn roll her eyes. She was all nervousness and stiff politeness. She might have even expected a reprimand from him for all the years she mistreated Rachel at school. Yet Leroy was from whom Rachel inherited her best yet often undervalued traits: slow to anger and quick to forgive. While it took longer time for Hiram to warm up to Quinn, Leroy was able to see where the future would bring Quinn to. That was why he was the one who best understand Rachel's need to have Quinn over the second, third, fourth and many more times afterward until he lost count.

It brought Quinn here.

"So," he began after Rachel dashed upstairs and there were only the two of them in the kitchen, "enjoying the dinner?"

"Your cooking is superb as always, Mr Be—Leroy." He smiled when Quinn caught herself from the all too formal addressing. The girl flashed a sheepish smile. "I'm still working on it, you know."

"Good to know that." The slight sway to the left on Quinn's stance didn't go unnoticed, however. While a series of physical therapy might help the girl a lot after the accident two years ago, recovery is a painful and undoubtedly long, long journey. "Come on. Let's grab the good stuff."

The way Quinn's face was flooded by gratitude was all he needed before he pulled the girl into a firm hug.

"It's okay," he said, patting the girl's back softly. Jesus, what kind of family was the Fabrays when Quinn's first reflect as she was hugged was stiffening and walling herself up? Even after the years he had known her? Even after she became Leroy's daughter's most important person? He didn't exactly know Russell Fabray aside from the years they shared as schoolmates, and even though those years weren't the kindest years for him, he had expected Russell—or at least _Judy Fabray_, for God's sake—to teach their youngest daughter how priceless a hug was. Resentment rose to his throat at the thought, but he swallowed it down. Quinn wasn't the person he was angry at.

Then almost as quickly as the wall shot up, it was lowered. The way tense muscles beneath his palm relaxed though slowly. The measured drop of Quinn's shoulders as uncertain hands inched up to clutch at his back. The way Quinn's edge diminished as she bent to fully meet Leroy's hug. They all told Leroy what he needed to know even when Quinn could only manage to let out a whisper, mortified, "I don't mean to—I'm sorry."

"I know, Quinn," he said. "I know."

Quinn muttered a choked _thank you_.

"Nope, no need to." He pulled back, though still keeping the girl at arm's distance. "Hiram will be home soon, and the only way you need to thank me is if he listens to me and really brings crepes for our movie night."

Quinn delicately wiped at her left eye though it was suspiciously dry, as if buying time to compose herself. "And if he doesn't, Rachel and I can always go and get some for us."

He winked. "Now that's the spirit."

Rachel reappeared in the kitchen as Leroy let go of Quinn. If she got a clue of what had happened, she didn't say anything and for that Leroy was proud of her. Sometimes, the best form of communication required the understanding of the need to keep silent, after all.

Leroy took the baskets of coconut flavored vegan ice cream—Rachel's—and mint with chocolate flakes—his and Quinn's—from the freezer and hand them to Quinn, who took them to the living room. Rachel took three bowls and spoons and followed after her, but not before elbowing her father affectionately. Just like that, and Leroy wordlessly accepted her appreciation for what he did.

The three of them huddled together on the couch, more of enjoying the time than really watching Joel Schumacher's rendition of _The Phantom of the Opera_, Rachel against Quinn's left, mindful of the possibility of prodding Quinn too hard, and Quinn's against Leroy's left. Halfway of the movie, Rachel slumped closer to Quinn's side, apparently dozing off due to all the day's exhaustion. Quinn glanced at Rachel, and Leroy watched a small smile tug at the corner of Quinn's mouth as she slid deeper onto the couch to adjust Rachel's head on her shoulder. That in itself brought a smile to his lips. Never in his life had he seen his baby girl give up on a movie night—a _musical_ nonetheless—to doze off. It seemed he had to adapt to some exceptions, anyway, and one of them was right next to him now.

Leroy took Rachel's bowl of ice cream before it toppled and put it on the coffee table in front of them. When he saw that Quinn tried to do the same with her bowl but unable to, he took hers, too. Quinn said thank you, and Leroy nodded. He leaned back against the backrest, sliding to put his feet on the table. At that, Quinn raised a perfect eyebrow but grinned nevertheless.

"It's about time to do this the Berry way." Then he patted his own shoulder. "Here," he said, tone playful but underlying it was gentle resoluteness. "It may not be a good shoulder to cry on—you'd prefer that to be Rachel's, I know, but at this time it's all good for a shoulder to doze off."

Leroy believed that it was the first time he heard Quinn laugh, really laugh. No wonder his daughter was so captivated by this one Quinn Fabray of brilliant eyes and bright hair and enigmatic smile.

As Quinn rested her head on his shoulder and her side braid tickled Leroy's jaw—Rachel had done a great job with the hair, Leroy thought proudly, she said, "I'm working on it, Leroy."

"Uh-huh," he grinned. "That's twice in a row, young lady. Rachel will be disappointed as she always thinks you're an eloquent speaker."

Quinn said, "You will understand that I can't be eloquent all the time—not with Rachel around, that is. She outdoes me." She laughed again, though quieter. "I like being here. In this house—_home_. I like it. So much."

"That's the biggest compliment you can give, Quinn."

"I—" Quinn hesitated, before finally settling at, "I can never thank Rachel enough for looking past my wrongdoings."

_And more_, Leroy thought, but he kept it to himself. At least for now. What's more fun than watching his daughter and Quinn tiptoe around each other as they tried to figure out what they had for and wanted from each other?

And when they fell, when they _did_ fall, they would be there for each other.

And daddy dear would, too.

"You're important to her," he said. "To us."

Quinn's smile had never been as dazzling.

And that's the position Hiram found the three of them in as he arrived from the brutal hours of his last meeting that week: Rachel curling up against Quinn, an arm draped across Quinn's waist, face half buried in Quinn's shoulder, Quinn with her head on Leroy's sweater-clad shoulder, arm pressed against Leroy's side, and Leroy half awake, ice cream bowl still on his hand, eyes on the screen, watching the movie without really registering.

Hiram's eyebrows rose in good humor at the scene. He stepped closer to his husband to incline to Leroy's unoccupied shoulder, Leroy himself scooting over to give space to Hiram on the already crowded couch.

"Family cuddle time?" Hiram offered, apparently knowing what Leroy was thinking.

"Mm-hmm." Leroy hummed. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?"

"We definitely need a bigger couch for the four of us."

-.-.-.-


	2. Chapter 2

**Daughters**

Author: pratz

Summary: It's summer break, and Leroy Berry observed.

Notes: Since _Daughters_ is my first Glee fanfic and also my first foray into the awesomeness that is Faberry, your appreciation means a lot to me. Now that it's finished, I'm plunging myself into writing _Faithful are the Wounds_, which can be read as a kind of spin-off of this. That, and thank you again!

-.-.-.-

Hiram Berry was born to be a father, that much Leroy knew.

Even though Hiram was eccentric most of the time, he could also be terrifyingly intimidating and protective under his disguise of calculated politeness. Rachel's ex Finn—Hudson boy, as Hiram had put—often found himself at the mercy of Hiram's sharp wit. And Leroy did not want to start on Hiram's protective mode. To some levels, he believed only Burt Hummel, when it came to his dear boy Kurt, could match Hiram's protectiveness.

Thus, Leroy did pity the poor newspapers boy who was at the receiving end of Hiram's flaring bout of natural born father mode.

"I-I-I'm so sorry, sir. I swear I don't know she's related to you. If I know—"

"—you will not cop a feel of her like a piece of meat?" Hiram's eyes narrowed even further. "Young man, even if she's just a stranger on a bus stop and not my daughter, I won't hold back from reprimanding you for this."

"I-I'm really sorry, si—"

"Getting reprimanded is the easiest out you can get, Rick, because I can—and you know I won't hesitate to—report to your supervisor or even your parents about this misbehavior."

_Cross Burt from the top two most protective people in Lima,_ Leroy thought, completely amused by the scene before him. _When these two tag team, no one can stop them._

"Daddy," Rachel tugged at his sleeve, "while I think Rick's got what he deserves for that inappropriate conduct, I honestly don't want to see where this will lead to. They're making a scene."

"But it's _them_," Leroy said, pointing at an upset Hiram Berry and an equally pissed off Quinn Fabray. The very scene started when Rachel went out to pick their daily newspapers in her shorts, and fourteen-year old Rick could not help coping a feel of her thigh. However, it was enough of a red flag right on Hiram's and Quinn's face. "I wouldn't want to get caught in the middle of the crossfire, baby girl."

Rachel rolled her eyes—a move she inherited from Leroy himself and had long perfected it to a faultless comic manner. "As much as I appreciate the concern, I don't want _my_ first morning in _my_ precious summer break to be executed in _my_ front yard in the form of an embarrassing trial of a too-grown-up-for-his-own-good newspapers boy."

This time, it was Leroy's turn to roll his eyes. "Why is everyone in this family so fond of word vomit? The three of you against me, really? Not fair."

"Daddy," Rachel said with a warning in her tone.

"Alright, alright." Leroy ruffled his daughter's hair. "Patient Daddy to the rescue it is, then."

Poor Rick was saved from further trial and tribulation as Leroy intervened to carry out a damage control. Hiram and Quinn were not too pleased, but they decided to let Rick go. Leroy gave the boy a fair warning that he would not report him as long as he behaved, resulting in Rick's hurriedly pedaling his bike to get away as quickly as possible from the Berrys' compound. As Leroy turned around to usher everyone to get inside for breakfast, he could hear Hiram's snicker and Quinn's chuckle, followed by a soft slap of a high five.

Leroy rolled his eyes again for good measure.

A year ago, he would not have thought that a scene like this was even remotely possible. Heck, a year ago, he would not have known that it took a nearly fatal accident, a wrecked so-called fairy tale marriage, and a blotched first NYADA audition to make his daughter the strongest person he had ever known. All three events, happened so jarringly rampant in an unfortunate row, broke and reshaped Rachel in a way that Leroy could only admire the result of. No, seriously. It was a raw year for his daughter, and between the two fathers, it hit Hiram much harder than it did him. Hiram's natural kick of fatherhood as well as love, worry and fear had changed him as much as it changed Rachel, with only a minor difference: while Rachel rebuilt her strength from scratches, Hiram took everything with more precaution.

Including Quinn Fabray.

Hiram guarded his expression carefully the first time Rachel invited Quinn to a dinner. True, he sympathized with the wheelchair-bound girl and almost cried himself as Quinn peeled story upon story of herself prior to her car accident. Yet Leroy knew that Hiram could not let go of that nagging feeling at the back of his mind that something about this tentative friendship of his daughter's was different.

But Leroy understood his husband.

This was, after all, the very girl who spent three and a half out of four years being akin to a high school nightmare to his daughter. Other parents possibly would not think twice to slam the door on Quinn's face the second they knew her history. Hiram was to be praised that he managed to sit civilly during dinner, though the way he fidgeted on occasion gave out to Leroy that he was not fully comfortable.

Then again, Leroy also understood his daughter.

So they had another dinner for four. And a lunch. And a regular hospital visit for a checkup. And a physical therapy session. And a movie night. And the first and last sleepover before Quinn left for Yale. Then Rachel was off to NYADA thanks to her second audition perfectly executed, and Leroy and Hiram were left with only updates about her through phone calls, emails, and Skype sessions.

In all, there was always a mention of Quinn's name.

And the idea still could not sit well with Hiram.

Then there was that awful food poisoning incident in Rachel's first college summer break.

He asked for the fifth time that evening if he should call a doctor for her when Rachel went even paler as she calmed a series of dry heaving. To say that he was worried was an understatement, but at least he did better than Hiram to stay collected. His husband had seriously sworn to ban zucchinis from the new store next block. Next to her, Quinn, who was there for dinner, was rubbing her back softly.

Rachel rasped that she's going to be fine, that they should go now because she did not want them to be late for Hiram's junior associate's bachelor party. She would hate it if they were not there, she said, adding that Quinn was there. She could only manage a weak smile, but Leroy knew that there was no point in debating his daughter.

Especially when she brought up Quinn to her defense.

He ended up half dragging Hiram, who was busy calling every doctor he knew, and started the engine to drive to Jake's bachelor party. Nobody spoke during the first ten minutes of the ride, and Leroy was not going to start any conversation, knowing that the only thing in Hiram's mind was Rachel.

Hiram finally broke the stalemate by saying that it's Leroy responsibility to say something.

Leroy raised both eyebrows.

Then Hiram pointed out that while he was the fun dad and Leroy was the strict dad, carefully nurturing a scowl. His conclusion was that it was Leroy's duty to stop his daughter from getting into trouble.

Leroy held back from saying out loud that why yes, Rachel was _his_ daughter when it came to troubles.

Hiram finally relented to the impending scowl. He insisted that Leroy was going to turn around and they were going back and they were going to save _their_ daughter, all the while gritting his teeth. His even managed to land a blow that surely Leroy were not unaware of what could possibly happen when two teenagers were left alone in an empty house at night sans parental supervision.

_Word vomit,_ Leroy wanted to chastise him, but he knew better.

Hiram said that he was doing his best to not let Rachel permanently star in a real _Les Miserable_, that he knew Rachel, that he knew what he saw. This time? It was not a simple fall. With Hudson boy or Jesse, it might be. But not this one, he stated. Pausing, he looked torn and reluctant as he finally let it out.

_'She's not falling. She's soaring.'_

That was the part where Leroy was sure he did not follow Hiram.

At Leroy's expression of being at a loss, Hiram straightened himself in a somewhat stiff decorum, continuing with something about a wiseman's adagio of the higher you fly, the harder you fall. And that was exactly why he did what he did.

A minute ticked. And another. Sighing, Leroy finally geared the car to the next lane to take a U-turn, Hiram's associate's bachelor party be damned. Just so they were clear, he said that he was doing it only because he did not want Hiram to permanently star in _How Do You Solve a Problem like Quinn Fabray_.

The drive back home in fact only took twenty minutes, yet Leroy could almost physically feel tension bleed from Hiram. A distraught Hiram had never meant to be a good sight as he kept finger tapping his knees and glancing outside the window to see the road marks. As much as Leroy wanted to laugh at his husband's frolics, he knew that the scenarios played in Hiram's mind were exactly the same ones he once had entertained. _Indeed, it's never easy to see your beloved child grow up_, he thought soberly.

The moment he opened the front door, Leroy had expected—and very much wish for the opposite—one of his mental scenarios to manifest in front of him.

He had never expected to find a half asleep Quinn in the living room, slouching on the couch, chin almost touching her chest, with a soundly asleep Rachel's head on her lap, covered by a blanket, hands folded neatly under her cheek.

He cleared his throat, and Quinn's eyes snapped open. She, however, only needed a few seconds to compose herself, and Leroy had to give her credit for that.

Rachel had taken the medicine and vitamin water, Quinn reported, Rachel shifting on her lap but not waking up. She had just fallen asleep minutes ago.

Leroy felt a bit guilty now that he—_Hiram!_—had seemingly disturbed her daughter's rest. She did not have to wait for them, actually, he said to Quinn, and he wondered why they were not in bed.

Hiram did not even bother to hide his glaring at him, as if challenging him to say, _So you want them to lock themselves in Rachel's bedroom and do whatever I'm afraid and don't want to imagine they do?__  
_

Quinn only shrugged, saying that she believed it was better if they wait for them here.

_Oh_.

The part _I don't want to betray your trust_ was left unsaid, though, yet Leroy knew that Hiram had caught it, too.

Hiram wordlessly made his way to the couch and slipped his arms under Rachel's shoulders and knees. Quinn shifted to accommodate him, but she did not say anything as Hiram stood, with Rachel's in his arms, still not looking at anyone but Rachel.

Finally Quinn relented—out of courteousness than discomfort, Leroy noticed. She said that she should go home now that the fathers were there, smiling at both Hiram and him.

The voice that replied did not belong to him, however.

"I'm sorry?" Quinn turned.

It was late, Hiram repeated. Quinn looked genuinely surprised—more at Hiram's progress, but he did not give her a chance of rebuttal. Hiram stated the facts that Quinn did not bring his car and there was no way they were letting a young lady wander all by herself at this hour even though it was only for two blocks.

It was for the best, he added, deciding to help Hiram without appearing too self-satisfied to Hiram or too assertive to Quinn.

What surprised Leroy, and even much more Quinn herself, was what came next.

_'I insist, Quinn.'_

And Leroy was flooded by the memories of the soft tenor that Hiram used when he told Rachel that he had prepared Rachel's tutu for her first ballet performance when she was in pre-school. And when he told Rachel about how great Barbra Streisand was in _Funny Girl_. And when he told Rachel to hold on, hold on just a bit longer, when she was too delirious from her fever as they drove to the hospital. And when he told Rachel that she was so brave and beautiful for bracing her first dentist appointment. And when he told Rachel that slushie attacks did not matter, that she was much, much more amazing than the bullies and the jocks. And when he told Rachel that one failed NYADA audition did not mean a failed dream, that even if all roads to New York were blocked, she could construct one herself out of pure determination.

Save for Rachel, Hiram had never used that voice, that tone, that sentiment, for anyone else.

Well, the source of a rustling sound in the dark that made him turn his head from the credit roll on the TV screen was definitely another exception.

"Oh," Quinn's soft voice wafted through before they could see her figure. "I just want to get some water. Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"Nah, nope," Hiram dismissed Quinn's apology away. "We're done with the movie anyway. Just going to move upstairs, that is." Then Leroy could feel silent shakes as Hiram laughed as inaudibly as he could when he asked, "Rachel keeping you _awake_?"

"_No_," Quinn replied swiftly, sharp and firm, though the blush on her cheeks was still visible even in the dimness of the room.

"Spare her your untimely, unnecessary innuendos, hon." Leroy landed a mock jab on Hiram's left shoulder before rising from his position on the couch. He wrapped an arm around Quinn's shoulders in a loose hug. "Night, Quinn. Don't forget we have a day trip tomorrow morning."

"You know I won't miss it for anything. Night, Leroy."

He headed for the stairs and Hiram trailed behind him, but not before stopping in front of Quinn as well, opening his arms wide. "Despite the untimely, unnecessary innuendo, can this old man have a good night hug?"

Quinn laughed, soft, achingly familial, and just perfect, and stepped into Hiram's arms. "Good night, Hiram."

"Good night, sweetheart."

Boy, how it all made Leroy glad that last year's memory was indeed a perfect start.

-.-.-.-

Reference: Leroy's mentioning _How Do You Solve a Problem like Quinn Fabray_ is a nod to Andrew Lloyd Webber's British show _How Do You Solve a Problem like Maria_.


End file.
